the lovers that went wrong
by fatedtopretendd
Summary: "He hears she's back in town. Marissa left five years ago and he hasn't seen her since. She was only meant to be gone for one." Taylor/Ryan/Marissa. Finished.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is going to be a two part fic, and it's more Ryan centric than my usual. Fortunately, I have already written the second half so no worries of this fic being indefinitely unfinished. I'll post the second part soon, within this week probably. (And speaking of incomplete fics, I am sorry about Fresh Starts. I am trying to do some work on it but any promises would basically be meaningless. I can only offer an apology.)**

**Reviews are, of course, the greatest. Thanks.**

/

_And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,_

'_Cause most of us are bitter over someone._

_Setting fire to our insides for fun,_

_To distract our hearts from ever missing them._

'Youth' - Daughter

He's married at 22, straight out of college. He always thought he would get married young, probably knock up a girl at sixteen and then out of guilt, some old-fashioned sense of responsibility, end up marrying her. When Theresa got pregnant, he thought about it a lot. If the child was his, does he propose? Do they try to make to make it work? And yet, the whole time, being married to Theresa felt the most sickening idea of all when he was so in love with another. Then he came back to the Cohens and he started to believe he would marry much later. When the time was right and the girl was right and they were doing it for all the right reasons.

But he's married at 22. _It's a Vegas wedding of all things._ It's okay, though, because he loves Taylor. She makes him happy. She makes him smile and laugh.

She's a whirlwind, she's electric.

She's safe, she's secure.

She can't break his heart.

* * *

Ryan always thought Taylor was a free-spirit. The kind who might one day drop everything, move to a village in France and decide to be a painter. But she's the kind of free-spirit who would not waft through life. If Taylor wanted to be painter, she would work to be the best painter. Taylor wants success. She'll stop at nothing to get it. However, deep down what Taylor craves the most is acceptance. At Harbour, she longed for the respect of the Newport bitches, of the likes of Summer and Marissa. Now she's older and she still wants in.

Even though she's in law school at UCLA, she goes to all the big Newport parties at the weekend. Hosts many herself at their new house in Newport (a rich aunt dies and leaves her a massive inheritance). She presents them as the bright young powercouple - he's the promising architect and she's the promising lawyer, maybe one day California's first female governor.

He humours her, does not protest or complain because she's always so happy. But this is not the life he imagined.

* * *

He hears she's back in town. Marissa left five years ago and he hasn't seen her since. She was only meant to be gone for one.

He wonders what she's doing back. He won't let his thoughts go further than that.

She left and he moved on.

* * *

Taylor tells him he should be ecstatic about his promotion. Only one year at the Newport Group and he's got so far.

He smiles slightly and says, "Yeah, I guess I should be." She throws a party to celebrate, tells her new friends with so much pride about her husband's promotion.

Ryan can't tell her that he isn't happy at the firm. When he decided to be an architect he did not expect long drawn out discussions about profit-margins and cutting costs. His work is dull, lifeless, and he feels like they are constantly cheating, but the pay is good. Taylor would not understand his complaint. She might enjoy artsy Japanese cinema, could ramble on and on about Renaissance art, might in so many ways be a radical, yet, Newport society leaves its mark on her. Money is power, money is success. Social perceptions matter.

"That boy from Chino, remember the ones the Cohens took in, he's doing so well. Who would have thought?" they say, and she listens.

* * *

Sundays are his favourite day. It's the weekly lunch at the Cohen house. Taylor joins him sometimes but she's often busy. Today, it's just him.

Sandy and Kirsten congratulate him on the promotion and it makes him beam. They seem genuinely proud of him. He doesn't tell them about his doubts or second-thoughts because he doesn't want to disappoint them. They do seem so happy about it and it feels like he has done something right. It finally feels like he's proving they made the right decision about him; he's pursued that feeling since Kirsten first said he's staying with them.

He has a beer with Sandy, they talk about sports and Sandy jokingly asks what young marital bliss is like. Sandy didn't approve at first, thought they were too young, but he's coming around. Ryan laughs and says it's great. Kirstens fusses over him and feeds him so much, he thinks he's full for the week. He plays with his new sister and after lunch, they all cram around a computer and skype Seth, who's living in New York with Summer.

Later on that afternoon, as he's reading Sophie a story, the phone rings. Kirsten picks it up.

"Oh, hi Julie," he hears her say. He perks up momentarily and his eyes dart at Kirsten's direction. They start talking about a fundraiser and his attentions go back to Sophie. Afterwards, before he leaves, Kirsten asks him if he has spoken to Marissa. He replies he hasn't and shrugs.

"I'll probably pop over some time and say hi," he says weakly.

* * *

He sees Julie at a party. Their eyes meet from a distance and he can feel her dissecting him. She approaches him later at the bar.

"I heard about the promotion," she says. _Does the whole fucking town know? _he thinks and remembers this is Newport and his wife is Taylor. "Well done," she tells him and smiles. It isn't warm but it isn't cold either; it's like respect. Julie twirls her champagne flute and he can see her mind calculating.

"Marissa's home," she adds. She's waiting for a reaction and he doesn't want to give her one.

"Really? I didn't know," he lies.

* * *

It takes Taylor one month to finally mention Marissa.

"She's back in Newport, you know right? Have you seen her at all? I thought you might have. Newport's such a small place, I'm bumping into people all the time," she rambles in a frenzy.

"No, no, I haven't," he tells her. He wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek. "I'm not in a rush to see her. You have nothing to worry about. I'm _your_ husband."

* * *

It takes exactly seven weeks and four days for him to start admitting that he wants to see her. On his lunch break he wanders over to Julie's new place - a beachside condo - after she divorced with Neil. The Newport group is planning on buying a plot of houses nearby. He tells himself that's why he's here. He's going to go over and check the houses - this is just a pit stop. He knocks on the door, ready to tell his story to Julie. There's the frightening possibility that it is Marissa who opens the door; he's a wreck. He stands for a good five minutes before he realises that nobody is in. His heart sinks.

He prepares to walk away, retreat to his car and the bubble of his present life when Julie drives up.

"Ryan!" Julie beams and smiles at him with pleasant surprise. Her smile turns smug. She doesn't have to ask what he's doing here. "_She_ moved out last week," she tells him.

"Oh," he utters. He feels like an idiot, a teenage fool.

"Do you want the address?" she asks.

"No, it's okay," he tells her and starts walking to his car.

"It's a place near the pier," she calls out anyway. He pretends he didn't hear.

* * *

He's a madman, he thinks. He roams the pier on his lunch break, sometimes walks along the beach. He goes to the places she used to like and the news ones she would like, yet, he never braves the lifeguard stand. He sometimes sits on the bench outside The Bait Shop and his eyes start to scan the people walking by. He's not sure what he's looking for, or what he wants. He hopes that maybe chance will strike and he'll meet her through a happy accident.

She told him once, half-serious and half-joking, that their first meeting was star-crossed.

* * *

"Hey buddy, I heard the big news," Seth says over the phone.

"Yeah, what?"

"Marissa's back in town, man! C'mon, spill."

"And why would I care?"

Seth sniggers and guffaws and laughs his head off.

"_Dude,_" Seth stresses. Somehow the fact that he's married doesn't change old beliefs.

"Well I haven't see her," Ryan replies.

"Oh, really?" Seth's surprised and suddenly, it occurs to him maybe the joking around is stepping on sore ground. He backtracks, says why should Ryan care. He asks about Taylor and shares stories about Summer. But then it's Ryan who goes back to her.

"Do you know what she's doing back?" he asks. He can feel how sceptical and accusatory his voice must sound. He curses in his mind.

"No idea," Seth says. Of course, he wouldn't have anything useful to say.

* * *

When he finally sees her, he has to think hard to make sure it's her. It's at the beach (where else). She sits on the sand, wearing a yellow sundress. Her hair is up in pony tail, much darker than what he last remembered. She has her face turned away from him, head buried in a book. He wanders over for a closer look. He thinks he might be imagining her. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and clears his throat. A lock of hair falls from behind her ear.

"Is this seat taken?" he asks and cringes at how cheesy and awkward and cliched that sounds. She turns and he can't believe it. It's her, it's really her. She's all tan and freckles and long legs. She smiles at him and he can feel it spread through his entire body.

"_Hey_."

"_Hey._"

He sits down, crosses his legs awkwardly and laughs nervously. "I heard you are back," he tells her and berates himself for stating the obvious.

"I was starting to really miss Newport. Would you believe it?" she replies and smiles again. Her eyes shine, so bright and illuminating, he's forgotten what it is like to look through them. His breath catches and his voice wavers with nerves.

"Well, Newport missed you," he offers and then immediately thinks it's the lamest thing he has ever said. She starts to laugh and he joins in and it stops feeling like they haven't seen each other in five years.

"I heard you had got a sense of humour," she tells him. And then the laughter subsides and they recall the time gone by. Her eyes glance downwards to the ring on his finger that glows in the sunlight. She clears her throat and says congratulations.

His smile fades and he grows serious and unsure. "Thank you," he replies. The silence is heavy and suffocating. They are not the people they were. Not at all, not by a long margin.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to the readers and reviewers. Here's the 2nd half, hope it doesn't disappoint.**

/

They have lunch again, and then again, and again, until it's routine. They talk about moments missed in the past five years. He tells her about Berkeley. She tells him about studying in London and then doing her Masters in English at Yale. She explains she's working at a small publishing house that has recently been set up in Newport. They're planning on starting up a magazine centring on the arts scene on the West coast. It's ambitious, she admits shyly, but exciting.

She asks him about the Newport Group, mentions his big promotion and he finds himself telling her all his frustrations. What he hasn't been able to tell Taylor in over a year, he has told Marissa within a month.

* * *

He tells Taylor he had lunch with Marissa three weeks after the first time. Taylor tries to hide her surprise and her fear. He lies that it was just the once.

"Well, how was it?" she demands and her shoulders flinch and her fingers fidget.

"Fine, alright...actually, it was kind of nice to catch up." He smiles awkwardly and hates himself for saying the last part. She's going to get jealous and neurotic about it. He wants to add that he doesn't mean it that way but he can't. He kisses the corner of her mouth and hopes it's an effective compromise. She pushes him away just slightly.

"Oh, really?" she questions.

"Yeah, but it's been a long time," he tells her. "She's changed, she's a completely different person, not the one I knew." It isn't entirely true but he thinks she'll prefer hearing this.

* * *

"How?" Marissa says one day. "How did you and Taylor end up together?"

It startles him completely and her probing eyes making him cower. He says, "It just happened. She needed to fake an affair for a divorce and then everything followed."

He too asks himself how? How did his life dwindle so rapidly into middle age?

* * *

The guilt gets too much and he gets scared. He doesn't show up for lunch for a whole week. He thinks they can't really be friends. Not them, not with their past. And it's unfair to Taylor. He loves Taylor, he made a commitment to Taylor. He can't betray that.

But then Taylor rushes into the kitchen one day and says, "Did you hear about Marissa?"

His faces goes starkly white and his voice turns unsteady. "What?" he asks.

She's grinning almost when she tells him. "Apparently Marissa was in rehab in England."

"What? Who told you that?" he immediately questions. His voice is angry, he can't believe she would drop news like that with such shameless abandon.

She replies it was Karen at pilates. Adds nervously that it's more of a rumour than fact.

"And you just believed it?" he interrogates. There's disappointment in his eyes when he looks at her and she feels it. She apologises quickly, says it was a mistake, careless on her part. They drop the topic but it remains on both their minds. They have dinner in silence. When Ryan asks her to pass the salt, she looks up at him and he sees the previous regret in her eyes has disappeared.

"Why do you care so much whether Marissa was or was not in rehab?"

His stares back, his mouth going dry with nerves. "She's my friend Taylor."

"She's your ex-girlfriend," she corrects.

"That was a long time ago."

"It was only five years ago. That isn't very long." Taylor's looking at him with steely eyes but behind the facade, he can see she is hurting. He leans in, reaching for her hand.

"I love you, I want you. Marissa _is_ a friend, one I care about, but she is just a friend," he tells her and hopes she believes.

Taylor pulls her hand away and stands up. She waits and he can see her thinking.

"Invite her over for lunch next weekend. That way I can get to know her again as well. We can all be friends."

She smiles sweetly and he agrees half-heartedly.

* * *

It's 7 am when he's standing outside her door, knocking impatiently. He taps his foot nervously, his mind constantly dwelling on the news that Marissa had been in rehab. When nobody comes to the door, he tries her home phone, then her mobile and then again and again. It's on his third attempt, he hears her call out to him from behind.

"Ryan?" He turns and sees her in a loose top and running tights, hair messily done up in a pony tail.

"You went for a run?" he questions surprised.

"Um, yeah, new routine," she mutters back. She brushes past him, towards her door and unlocks it. She walks in and when he doesn't follow, she turns and adds with a raised eyebrow, "Do you need an invitation?"

He smirks and comes inside. He realises this is the first time he's been here. He looks around, trying to recognise the shades of Marissa in the interior.

"So you must have something very important to talk about if you're here this early and judging by the 3 missed calls you left me," she states. He sees her picking up her phone from the kitchen table and begins to regret those calls. Then the embarrassment leaves and the curiosity and the fear return.

"Apparently you were in rehab," he says bluntly. She looks surprised but then restrains it.

"Where did you hear that?"

"From Taylor, who heard it from Karen in pilates."

"You are listening to the Newpsie gossip now?" she retorts.

"Is it true?" he asks. She remains silent, eyes clouding over. "Just yes or no, Marissa?"

"Yeah, it's true," she confesses. She dares to look at him and sees the confusion and the inevitable disappointment lingering in those stormy blue eyes.

"What happened?" She expected anger, burning rage like the boy who shouted at her five Christmases ago to get her life together. Instead, he sounds sad, almost broken. She takes a deep breath and decides to tell him the truth.

"It was my first year at university. I was partying a lot, drinking a lot, sometimes getting high. I had decided not to come home that summer, so Kaitlin fly out to visit me. She found me totally blacked out and freaked out. I promised her later that I would cut back, but I didn't even manage one day. She called mom, asked her to get on a plane to London. She came, we fought at first and then...Kaitlin started to cry, and mom was crying, and then I was crying. It started to sink in that I had a problem. So, I spent that summer in rehab, getting clean."

He listens, taking in bit by bit.

"How are you now?"

"Good," she replies softly. "Sober for a year and a half." He nods, the relief palpable in his demeanour.

"Was there a boyfriend involved in all this?" he asks.

"Are you planning on finding him and beating him up?" she jokes lightly. He manages a smile. He is so predictable, but then so is she.

"So there was a guy?"

"I don't cease to disappoint, do I?" Marissa says wryly.

"I'm not judging," Ryan clarifies.

"I am."

"Is that why you didn't tell me?" he questions after a moment's silence. "You thought I would judge you." She realises he sounds hurt.

"What was I going to say? Hey, remember me? The girl who could never get her shit together. By the way, I fucked up my life again," Marissa fires back.

"Did Summer know?"

"Yeah," Marissa admits reluctantly. "But that's because, well, Summer has a way of getting things out of me. I didn't plan to tell her. I asked her to not say anything to anyone, not even Seth, so don't blame her."

"Why didn't you tell me, Marissa? Didn't I deserve to know?"

"Ryan, if I had told you, one of these two things would have happened. Either you wouldn't have cared and you would have wanted nothing to do with it, for which I can't blame you but I would have been heartbroken The alternative is you would have cared too much. You would probably insist on coming and visiting. That would have destroyed your relationship with Taylor, you would inevitably find yourself dragged down into my mess and it would be yet another occasion where I have wrecked your happiness. That's equally unbearable."

"It would have been the latter," Ryan states without hesitation.

"What?"

"I would have got on a plane and come to see you," he confirms and shrugs his shoulders like it's the most obvious thing to know. "But you should have still told me." He smiles at her awkwardly but it's warm and gentle and suddenly, Marissa's walking over and hugging him. His arms go around her like second nature, holding her tightly.

"I wanted to call you so badly," she whispers into his ear. "You have no idea."

He holds her even tighter.

* * *

Marissa joins Ryan and Taylor for lunch at the Cohens'. Ryan thinks it will be better with Sandy and Kirsten as a buffer. It's still awkward, with Marissa and Taylor struggling to go beyond polite pleasantries, but he thinks it could have been worse. At the very least the afternoon appears to do something to placate Taylor's fears.

The daily lunches restart as quickly as Ryan had stopped them. Marissa doesn't question him on it, she needs him as much he needs her. Taylor spends so much of her time in LA that slowly the lunches become dinners also. They eat at her place, often cooking together. Eating out is ruled out at the risk of raising suspicions and his own house feels wrong.

If Ryan is honest with himself, he would admit that ever since he moved back to Newport after Berkeley and until Marissa returned to his life, he has been lonely. Taylor is away more often than she is home. Sandy and Kirsten are busy with Sophie. Seth and Summer are hundreds of miles away. His friends from work are mere acquaintances and his friends from Berkeley are elsewhere. There is only Marissa.

He goes out sometimes with old friends from the soccer team at Harbor. They are still the same, talking about cars and booze and girls. The only difference is that now some of them are married but that doesn't seem to stop them. One night, an old buddy haphazardly lets it slip that he's fucking the help. His wife doesn't have a clue. He's grinning, waiting for his friend to congratulate him but Ryan stares back in disgust, incapable of saying anything. This is Newport, a myriad of secrets. His friends have been raised for this life, they assume their roles with ease. But he never wanted this, still doesn't.

He never understood before why Seth and Marissa complained about their lives. He always saw that Newport wasn't perfect, the problems of the place never escaped him, yet, it was nothing compared to Chino. There is still no valid comparison to be made, but he finally gets their discontent. It is stifling living a life where everything is a facade.

He tells Marissa one day about his friends, who cheat on their girlfriends, and vents about the Newpsie events. Marissa nods, lends her support and does not indulge in any gossip.

"You know what the worst part is?" Ryan says, "I'm part of this whole charade, I'm complicit."

"Ryan, you are not," Marissa reassures. "I, as Julie Cooper's daughter, know all about Newpsie culture and trust me, you have a long way to go before you are converted."

He listens to her, wants to believe her, acts like he does, but deep down, for a reason he is too frightened to admit, he can't. The lies and deception are more familiar than he would like to admit.

"I get the feeling though," Marissa confides, "Feeling like you don't belong here, even worse is knowing that you don't _want to_ belong here. My nightmare at fifteen was a future which involved me, Luke and an utterly unhappy marriage."

"Surely that's still a nightmare?" Ryan comments. Marissa laughs in agreement.

"Can I ask you something? Why did you come back?" Ryan asks, suddenly serious. "It's not like Newport's changed."

"Why are you here?" Marissa questions in response.

Ryan thinks about it and then answers, "It's home, I guess."

"Exactly, it's home," Marissa tells him, "And now that I'm back, I'm here on my own terms."

Marissa smiles, quietly proud of herself. He looks at her, wonderment in his eyes. All the potential she ever had is coming together.

* * *

Taylor is away at a law conference in Zurich for a month. He's ended up spending almost every evening with Marissa. Dinner dates and movie nights. Under the dim glow of a lamplight, they sit on opposite ends of the same couch. _Pulp Fiction_ plays in the background. He watches her watching the TV and out of nowhere, it hits him. He is tempted.

It is not lust. It's not the urge to kiss her or fuck her, even though those desires lurk somewhere in the background. In that moment, he is tempted to hold her. Her head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around her, the two of them curled up on that couch. That's what he wants.

With crushing force, the truth strikes him. He is forced to ask himself the difficult questions, which present him with even more difficult answers. He is not happy. He does not love his wife. His marriage has been a mistake. It's the ugly reality and he can barely handle it.

* * *

The day before Taylor is supposed to come home, he gets another promotion. He could have chosen a number of people to break the news to first. Taylor, Sandy, Kirsten, Seth, but they would have all responded in the same way. Beaming faces, excited shouts of congratulations. Instead, after work is over, he has a drink by himself at a bar and then goes over to Marissa's house.

When she opens the door, he tells her with little delight, "I got another promotion."

"Well done," she says softly, lips pursed in a tiny smile, which is more sympathetic than congratulatory.

He walks inside, loosens his tie and leans against the kitchen counter.

"I'm so tired," he says with a sigh.

"Hey, this isn't bad news entirely. It's a good thing, it shows you are good at this, Ry. You're a good architect."

"But it's a job I hate." His voice is heavy and troubled when he speaks next. "And I can't tell Taylor that, I can't tell my wife because she wouldn't understand…_That's fucked up_."

"Ryan," Marissa's voice trails away. Their eyes lock together, blue on blue, the tension beginning to build.

The night he had looked at Marissa and acknowledged the truth for the first time, he had been uncertain about what to do. He has debated, hesitated and changed his mind more times than he can count. Now, staring into the mix of ocean-blue, sea-green irises, a piece of absolute certainty arises. He wants her, he needs her. _He loves her_.

An old memory flashes to mind. He recalls sitting in an English lesson at Harbor, their teacher talking about how some relationships that may seem sordid from the outside, can be really quite beautiful from the inside because love is beautiful and ultimately innocent. He had disregarded the insight but in that moment, it resonates completely. What he is feeling is wrong. He is reduced to the Newport cliche, the cheating husband and he hates himself for that. But the truth is, staring at Marissa, there is no hint of corruption. Notions of amoral conduct dissipate and he is left with only the purest of feelings.

"Marissa, I lo-"

"NO," she stops him. It's like she had read his mind. "I did not come back for _this_. I did not come to win you back or steal you away, this is not what I wanted."

"I know, I'm not saying you did," he tells her, taken aback at her outburst.

"I am not going to be that girl, _the other woman. _I am not some consolation prize now you realise your marriage is not working out," she shouts at him. Her voice is shaking, louder than she meant it to be. She gasps, as if to fight back tears and her hand moves to cover her mouth. He looks back, mystified.

"Consolation prize?" Ryan repeats, disgust bleeding through. "Don't you get it, Marissa? You are _the_ prize. You are the one! It's you, _it's always been you_."

"If it's always been me, why did you even marry Taylor?" she snaps back instantly.

"Because you left, Marissa!" He too is shouting. "You were meant to come home after one year and you didn't. You left me. You gave up on us. What was I supposed to do? Wait for you?"

She is reminded of when she had asked him the same question after that awful summer. Now it's her on the spot and as awful and unfair as it is, she can only manage one answer.

"Yes," she accuses, on the verge of tears. "You were supposed to wait, Ryan, you were _not_ supposed to get married."

Her honesty breaks him and he is helpless when he looks at her.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"I'm sorry too." Marissa leans against a nearby wall and hugs herself. Ryan walks closer to her. "I didn't give up on us. It was not like that, I didn't forget you. You've always meant so much, Ryan, but I really needed that time. I wasn't ready to come home."

"I should have waited," he declares. Marissa sighs.

"No, you shouldn't have. I was being unfair. I left, you didn't owe anything to me."

"I still should have waited. As much as I loved Taylor," Ryan pauses and makes sure she is facing him. "I loved you more. But I was angry at you, at myself, because I was not over you and I was so desperate to prove that I was. I married Taylor for the wrong reasons. I made a mistake," Ryan admits, "And I want to make it right."

Tears build in Marissa's eyes, a mixture of grief and joy. Ryan takes another step and then one more until inches separate them. He reaches out and takes her hand into his, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. For a moment she succumbs and then snatches her hand away.

"Then make it right," she tells him weakly. "Stay with her for the right reasons."

He stares back, hurt etched on to his face.

"Is that what you want? Do you want me to stay with her?"

"I think," her voice wavers. She wants to give in but she can't tear her gaze away from the gold band on his finger. "You're married Ryan. You need to talk to Taylor and work out how you feel with a clear head."

"I am thinking straight," he assures.

"Maybe, maybe not." Marissa shrugs and he takes a step back. "Go home, Ryan. Sleep on it."

Wordlessly he walks to the door. Just as he steps outside, Marissa speaks out.

"Ryan, I think maybe we should spend some time apart. Give each other the space to think clearly. Make sure we make the right decisions."

"Yeah," Ryan agrees solemnly and walks away, mistakenly believing that Marissa has so easily pushed him away. He misses the tears which cascade down Marissa's face, after he leaves.

* * *

It is 2pm on a Saturday. He stands outside a rustic looking apartment block in San Francisco. The red bricks are bright under the sunshine. He rubs his hands on the sides of his trousers to dry his sweating palms. The last time he was this nervous was when picking Taylor up from the airport after her trip to Zurich. He takes a deep breath and presses the button next to apartment number 11. A few seconds later, he hears her voice through the intercom, "Who is it?"

He clears his throat and answers, "It's me, Ryan."

"Oh," she says.

"Can I please talk to you?"

The seconds stretch. "Okay," she replies finally. He assumes it is his invitation to come upstairs.

Marissa left the day after their big confrontation. She called him and tried to explain. She said she owed it to both him and Taylor, to give them the space to work things out. He had been resigned and frustrated, even angry. Two and a half months later, hindsight in mind, he thinks maybe Marissa had done the right thing.

When she opens the door, he smiles automatically and uncontrollably. He has missed her too much to hide it. He drinks in the sight of her dressed in jeans and an oversized sweater, she's never looked better to him.

"Hi," he greets, his grin failing to subside.

"Come in," she offers. He succeeds in stealing a smile.

"Julie gave me the address," he explains. She nods. "So, did you hear about the divorce?"

"My mom mentioned it once." She looks nervous. Hesitantly, she adds, "Is it really over?"

"Yeah, it's over," Ryan confirms. "It's why I'm here actually."

"Really?"

"You were right. It was wrong of me to go to you like that before and for that I am sorry. It was unfair to Taylor, it was unfair to _you_. I needed to talk to Taylor and work things out between us. We needed the space and distance, and the time to think things through properly."

"Oh," Marissa utters, her disappointment obvious. "Well, apology accepted."

A smile plays on his lips at the knowledge of what he is going to say next.

"But you were wrong about one thing. You didn't believe me when I said, you're the one. Now that I have had all this time to think about it, I can tell you for sure, I really meant it. I love you, Marissa. It was always you. It's always going to be."

Marissa listens, holding her breath out of nerves and anticipation. When he finishes and looks at her with more vulnerability than he has ever shown her before, she breaks down crying.

"You're crying," Ryan states in distress. "I'm sorry if I, look, I don't expect you to just take me back-"

"No, no, no, " she protests. She wipes her eyes and for the first time that afternoon, she gives him a proper smile.

"You stupid, _stupid_ boy," she says. "I love you, too."

He grins at her and she draws him into a kiss.

There is no adjective that could do their happiness justice. But they never were that good with words anyway.

fin.


End file.
